


Collateral Damage

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Experimentation, Gen, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Psychological Torture, Self-Indulgent, Talon Jesse McCree, Torture, Young Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, background r76, left arm, pretending moira doesn't exist, sleeper agent, you know the one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a Blackwatch mission gone sideways, Jesse McCree is separated from his team and abducted by Talon.When he comes back, he is not the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not too sure what i'm doing posting this 1am rambling but here you go, i've been writing this to get back on the writing wagon after i majorly fell off. enjoy!
> 
> *also, as a note, amélie lacroix hasn't turned into widowmaker yet.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for graphic injury/torture

When he wakes, it is quiet and bright.

"Nnn..." Jesse murmurs, head pounding and mouth dry. The welt across his cheekbone is throbbing, the split skin bleeding crimson, and he groans when the aching pain hits. Tight bands circle his upper arms and ankles.

He opens his eyes blearily, squinting at the fluorescent strips covering the ceiling and three walls. The wall directly opposite him is opaque, tinted glass, and as he raises his head the glass slides up smoothly to reveal a man in a white coat and a black box on wheels.

"Jesse McCree. It's so nice to finally meet you." White Coat pushes the box forwards and it rolls to a stop beside the chair.

Jesse's mouth twists in a snarl. "Who the fuck are you?"

"My name isn't important. As for my meaning to you, well... we're going to become very good friends," he says, smiling and clasping his hands together in front of him. "Shall we start with some easy facts?"

"Fuck you," spits Jesse, but White Coat carries on unperturbed.

"What's your name?" he asks.

Jesse glares at him. "Fuck you," he repeats.

White Coat tuts at him, pulling something out of his coat pocket and tapping on it. Electricity jolts through Jesse and he lets out a cry, jerking in his seat.

"That's not the right answer," White Coat says sadly. "Try again. What's your name?"

"I ain't tellin' you anythin'."

Shock surges through him again, longer this time, and Jesse grits his teeth as he strains to hold back a whimper.

"One more time," White Coat coaxes. "Or I'll have to leave the electricity on for significantly longer. You don't want that, do you? What's your name?"

"Fuck," growls Jesse, enunciating the words, "you."

White Coat taps the remote and Jesse screams as electricity crackles through the chair, arching his back in an attempt to escape the burning pain.

"No, no-" he cries.

"What's your name?" White Coat asks again, casually, even as Jesse writhes in his chair.

"Jesse McCree," he chokes out, and White Coat shuts the pain off. Jesse slumps, panting, muscles fizzing, shame spreading through him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Shall we try another one? How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," Jesse grinds out, the words bitter in his mouth. It's an unimportant truth, though, and they probably already know. He can use it to prolong the pain until Gabe comes to get him.

_If you're caught, always give them small pieces of information. Enough to satisfy, and make sure it's true, but not something valuable._

White Coat smiles. "Good. You're learning. Who do you work for?"

Blackwatch is a secret Jesse can't give away, and so he glares at him. "Nobody."

He's expecting the pain to return, the fire to tear through him, but instead White Coat smiles sadly at him. "Oh, Jesse, I thought we were making progress. I'm going to have to open my box now."

Jesse watches, helpless and bound to his chair, as White Coat opens the lid. A row of gleaming instruments are arranged there, and he picks up what looks like a hunting knife, huge and serrated and deadly.

"I believe you shoot with your left hand, correct?" he asks, running his fingers along the serrated edge. "How would you feel about changing that up a little?"

Jesse frowns. "What?"

White Coat surges forward and grabs Jesse's arm with ice-cold fingers, just below the left restraint as as he presses the knife to the skin. "Tell me who you work for, Jesse, please."

He's not cold, but somehow his teeth are chattering. " _No_."

White Coat presses harder, moves the knife and it shears through skin like paper. Jesse clenches his jaw as his eyes go wide and wet. Blood trickles down his forearm.

"I'm not going to ask again," White Coat says, and although his tone is still friendly there's an undercurrent of malevolence and power. Power over Jesse. The situation has gone from bad to terrifying and Jesse can't think, can only stare at the knife drawing blood from his skin. "You can choose your silence or your arm. Who do you work for?"

Jesse _can't_ tell him, he _can't_ , and yet he can't lose his arm. "Wait, just let me-"

White Coat cuts him off with a smile. "Wrong choice, Jesse. _Disobedience will be punished_."

He saws and Jesse screams as the knife rips through meat, hot, sticky blood covering his arm. Nerves are ripped in two and tendons are torn, and Jesse's scream turns shrill. The knife reaches gleaming, white bone, and still White Coat saws and saws and Jesse's vision spots as he howls, head turning fuzzy and tears streaming down his cheeks. The sawing intensifies and now he's through the bone and out again, and White Coat tears through the flesh of Jesse's left arm and the limb falls to earth with a sickening squelch, inaudible below Jesse's hoarse screams.

He succumbs to the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been two weeks since Jesse was taken, and Gabriel is going out of his mind with anger and fear. It's _his_ fault, _his_ mission that Jesse disappeared in, his decision to put him at such high risk. Gérard is given temporary command over Blackwatch when Jack authorises Gabriel to search for the gunslinger full-time, and Ana helps him with recon, watching his back when she can. The pair of them strike at suspected Talon bases all over the globe, and it's only Gabriel's SEP-enhanced physiology that lets him carry on so relentlessly.

They find a lead about a week into their search, a neuroscientist who spills information about a laboratory in Mexico, hoping it will save his life. It doesn't. He dies like the rest of them, a ruthless dispatch courtesy of twin shotguns, spattering crimson across the dust-coloured wall behind him.

The base has been cleared by the time Gabriel and Ana reach it, and the commander curses. "Fuck! We're too _fucking late_!"

Ana's brow creases. "Stay calm, Gabriel. There will be something here." She tips her head to the side, scanning her surroundings with the meticulous precision she's known for. "There."

Gabriel turns as the captain strides over to one corner of the room, crouching to look at the floor. "What?"

Ana brushes her fingers over the ground, frowning as she traces several straight divots. "There are marks here. Uneven floor."

"Move," Gabriel growls, stalking over and stamping his foot down with all the force he can muster. The ground cracks and splinters, and the painted floor shatters and falls. Ana scrambles up and stares into the hole.

"There's... Gabriel, there's a whole compound down here!" she says, voice filled with shock, and the Blackwatch commander readies his shotguns as his face goes dark. Ana pulls out a flare, expression grim, and throws it down. The light arcs as it falls several feet, and fizzes on the floor below.

Gabriel looks at her. "Ready?"

Ana nods, and the commander leaps into the hole, mouth twisted in a snarl, about to end anyone who gets in his way. She follows behind, as she always does.

The corridor is sterile and white, and completely empty. Gabriel stalks through the corridors like a whirlwind, furiously ripping apart every room they come to. One has a single piece of paper in the corner, discarded, like someone forgot it by accident. When Ana goes closer, she sees it's a printed email chain, and she silently thanks the gods that somebody at Talon was foolish enough to leave it behind.

 _From: FO-03_  
To: RC-54  
Date: 03-27-2068  
Subject: SUBJECT 41 STATUS UPDATE  
RC, we need a status update on 41. Is it ready to switch to loc 38?

 _From: RC-54_  
To: FO-03  
Date: 04-01-2068  
Subject: RE: SUBJECT 41 STATUS UPDATE  
Subject is OK to move. Stage 1 success. Recommend RC to stay on case.

 _From: FO-03_  
To: RC-38  
Cc: RC-54  
Date: 04-01-2068  
Subject: SUBJECT 41 TRANSFER  
RC, we have a new subject and additional RC coming to loc 38. Prepare for Stage 2.

 _From: RC-38_  
To: FO-03  
Cc: RC-54  
Date: 04-04-2068  
Subject: RE: SUBJECT 41 TRANSFER  
Subject transferred successfully. Will update 08-04-2068.

"Jesse," Ana breathes, and Gabriel lets out a snarl.

"It. He's not a fucking _it_ ," he yells, slamming his fist against the wall, and he crumples to the floor as Ana hurries over. "I lost him, Ana," Gabriel chokes, and the captain wraps her arms around him. "I lost him. I lost the lead."

"You did no such thing, Gabriel. It's not your fault. We can still get him back," she whispers, trying to reassure him. "We can still find him."

"Fuck, I hope so," the commander whispers, more raw than she's ever heard him. "Hold on, Jesse. I'm coming."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for nongory torture

They stopped questioning him a long time ago.

It feels like years since Jesse was free, outside of this room with this chair and these bright, harsh lights. Seems like forever since he still had his - _no, don't think_ \- but Jesse is already gagging from the pain of the memory of losing his arm. Tears burn through his eyes, the liquid scorching; they've been kept open with cold metal ever since he woke up, and he hasn't slept since. All that's constant now is the pain running through his body, stopping him from resting, keeping him on this side of consciousness, and the light.

"How are we doing today?" comes a voice, and Jesse shivers as he vaguely recognises White Coat's tones. The doctor comes into his view, smiling as he always does.

He struggles against the restraints feebly, the fight leached out of him days ago. "No, no, lemme go," he murmurs.

White Coat tilts his head. "A little sleepy?"

Jesse takes in a shaky breath. "Fuck you... fuckin'..."

The scientist tuts. "We can't have that language, now, can we?" He crosses over to the ever-present black box, and opens it. Jesse's muscles tense as he retrieves a silver remote and comes closer again.

"Disobedience," he says, and the words spark a humiliating, agonising chord in Jesse's mind. _Say it_ , the voice in his head says. It's friendly. He wants to do what it says - _no_ , Jesse yells silently, and jerks against the strap binding his right arm.

"No... no, Gabe's gon'come for me, jus'...no!" he cries as White Coat slides something up and fire rips through his body and Jesse screams.

"Disobedience," he repeats, the words calm even through Jesse's haze of agony.

Jesse's voice cracks as he howls "No!", and the burning increases until all he is aware of is _pain and fire_ and he is going to die from the pain, he is going to _die right now_ -

"Disobedience," White Coat says again, tone flat.

"Disobedience will be punished!" Jesse gasps raggedly, the words ripping from his throat, and the pain shuts off and he slumps, tears streaming down his cheeks from his burning eyes.

"Overwatch."

Jesse tries so hard to stop the phrase, but as the electricity starts tingling through his body and he sees White Coat's hand moving, it forces its way out. "Overwatch will be eliminated!"

"Talon."

Jesse tries to shake his head but the restraint holds him firm, and he makes a choking sound as he presses his mouth shut.

White Coat sighs, pushing the slider up without warning, and fresh screams split the air as Jesse writhes in agony. "Talon."

"I - I must be - _no_!"

"Talon."

"I won't - no, no, you can't -" he cries, and a fresh wave of pain sends his stomach roiling, nausea flooding his system.

"Talon."

"I must be loyal to Talon!" Jesse chokes, and the pain vanishes and he throws up. It burns his throat and covers his clothes, and White Coat tuts.

"You've made a mess. _Disobedience_ ," he says coldly, and tears leak from Jesse's eyes. "This is your punishment."

He exits Jesse's line of sight, leaving him there in the rank-smelling vomit. There's the soft click he knows means the door has closed, and Jesse is left alone, shaking, with the pain and the light and his own treacherous words hanging in the air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for torture

Six weeks into his subject's reconditioning, Doctor Emerson Moreau introduces water. It's the Talon method; torture (in which the subject is broken), programming of phrases and keywords (in which the foundation for obedience is laid), and finally the neural reset via waterboarding. The removal of identity and humanity is what makes their methods so effective, and bringing the original personality closer to the surface during the reset allows the subject to go undetected as a sleeper agent. Even they themselves are unaware. Afterwards, the subject is completely pliant to orders. A few vestiges of free will can remain, as he found with his last subject; she managed to resist orders surprisingly well, considering how short a time it took her to break. This time, though, Moreau has eliminated the weaker aspects of the process. There won't be enough left of Jesse McCree under the surface to fight back.

He picks up his clipboard and gives the cover page a once-over, remarking the RC Stage. They've moved past Stage 2 now, the phrases firmly imprinted in his mind, and Moreau hasn't mentioned the subject's name once. By this point in the process, all his subjects forget their name. Lose their identity. The man sitting in Moreau's room has no idea who he is, and no hope left.

 _SUBJECT NAME: Jesse McCree_  
AFFILIATION: Blackwatch  
RC STAGE: 1 2 3

Moreau almost grins. The twenty-year-old struggled so much to keep Blackwatch from him. If only he'd known he already possessed that information from Talon's multiple moles in the organisation; he might have been able to save his strength. No matter, though, as Moreau would have broken him anyway, and at least the struggle gave the doctor a way in. He and the subject were transferred here, to the reconditioning location in Annecy, a couple of weeks ago. Moreau had them take extreme precautions, with the level of intricacy this reconditioning required, and they transported the entire room so as to prevent the subject sleeping, or seeing anything outside of the cell, even once. Normally, of course, he would have died from fatal insomnia several weeks ago, but Moreau's own concoction of chemicals is capable of extending the limit of keeping someone awake to months. It's more than enough time to complete a reconditioning.

Moreau breaks out of his thoughts and pushes open the door to the cell, walking in and asking the same question he always does. "How are we doing today?"

The subject doesn't even lift his head or move his eyes. There's no sign of recognition, or that there's even a consciousness present, and Moreau notes it down.

_No recognition response_

The doctor flicks out a pen torch and shines it in the subject's eyes. There's no reaction, not even a glance towards his face. He just sits still, irises glazed and unfocused, slumped and bound in the chair. Moreau grins. The symptoms are hugely promising for the required confirmation of Stage 2.

_No optical response_

"Disobedience," the doctor tries, and the subject's eyes focus slightly.

"Disobedience will be punished," he mumbles faintly.

The scientist goes through the other initial prompts, as well as the additional preprogrammed orders, and the subject responds equally quietly, but more importantly accurately.

_Prompt responses correct_

_STAGE 2 SUCCESS CONFIRMED_

Moreau crosses over to his box, lifting the lid carefully. It's full of toys, many of which he's used on the subject in the past weeks. He looks past them, though, reaching for a manila folder full of photos. Strike-Commander Morrison, Captain Amari - there. Gabriel Reyes' picture is an anomaly in a collection of heroes, but as commander of Blackwatch he still has a place in the hierarchy of Overwatch, and so he's prominent in Talon's files. Moreau takes the photo and closes the folder.

He crouches to the subject's eye level and holds up the image. "Target," the doctor commands. The subject moves slightly, his eyes focusing on the picture as ordered, and Moreau elaborates. "This is Gabriel Reyes, Commander of Blackwatch. He is your target. Kill him. Collateral damage is acceptable. Understood?"

"Understood," the subject mumbles, voice cracked and broken.

Moreau stands, returning the photo, and retrieves his next items. The watering can (it always amuses him how such a mundane instrument can be used to inflict such terror) is already filled, and he unfolds the thick cloth as he walks back to the subject. There is no reaction, although Moreau would bet he used to recognise this technique. The subject still doesn't react, even as the doctor extends his chair and tilts it until he's lying at an incline, feet higher than his head. Moreau positions the cloth carefully, making sure there's no way the subject can get air once the torture has started.

He starts to pour, and the stream of water arcs out of the can like shimmering, deadly crystal. The subject jerks violently when it lands on the cloth. Moreau tips the can back up and watches the subject and his struggle for a moment, the frenzied bucking against his restraints. He's still silent, though, so Moreau repeats the process again, and the subject lets out a whimper. The doctor smiles.

_He's resetting._

The third time is the final one, and as Moreau pours more water over him the subject lets out a yell, voice distorted through the panic and the soaking cloth.

"St-Stop!" he cries, and there's a gargling sound. The subject jerks again and screams before the sound is cut off, and Moreau lets off the water a couple of seconds later. He steps back and waits for a few moments before he lifts the cloth from the subject's face, revealing that he's fallen to unconsciousness.

This part of the plan is the most time-critical, and the moment Moreau sees that the subject is no longer conscious the clock starts ticking. The doctor replaces his tools in the box and hurries out of the room, not bothering with any semblance of cleaning up; it's an advantage of having burned off his own fingerprints long ago. He doesn't leave any markings of his presence.

His first objective is to change the chemicals currently being pumped into the subject's bloodstream. His personal concoction currently reduces the fatal effects of the sleep deprivation, as well as providing basic sustenance, but he'll switch it now. Something to keep the subject unconscious. Moreau inputs his changes into the control system, letting it make the adjustments for him before he closes the control panel and moves on.

The second task is to release a broadcast to several now-defunct Talon bases around the globe. Overwatch will be attempting to monitor their communications, although they use a higher-level encryption than the peacekeeping organisation has ever seen before, and as soon as Moreau's message is picked up they'll come storming down on Annecy. Everyone in the facility will be likely executed. They're only grunt soldiers, and Moreau holds no sympathy for their certain deaths, but he has no intention of being among those present when Overwatch (or, more likely, Blackwatch) come raining down on the base like hellfire.

His fingers fly across the keyboard in practised strokes as he types. He's been using this one for several years, preferring older technology to keypads and gestureboards, each new model more vulnerable than the last. The message he's typing is entirely irrelevant, largely gibberish, and encrypted with so many layers even he shouldn't be able to unscramble it again. The point, however, is not the contents; it's the flags he will engineer into the transmission itself. Overwatch won't realise it's just bait until it's too late.

Moreau shrugs off his coat as he hits send, letting the white garment crumple to the floor. The recognisable clothing serves as yet another trigger for the subject, but now the reconditioning has been completed it's unneeded, and very far from his style. Underneath is a suit of Talon's own invention, black and stealthy and full of technology.

 _Transmission broadcast successfully_ , flashes the screen, and Moreau grins to himself as he inputs a few commands into the system. He's no computer genius, but he knows the words required to fry the computer and wipe all files. The program he had created by Talon's hackers even causes the machine to physically overheat, melting the hard drive. Very few can extract information from that. The system starts to destroy itself, and Moreau strides out of the room, leaving the subject without a backwards glance.


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel is perched above a narrow alley in Florence when something starts buzzing furiously in his suit, and he drops down off the shadowed ledge to pat down his pockets. It's his Overwatch comm, and the rapidly flashing red light he sees as soon as he digs it out shows that it's an emergency call. He picks up instantly, brow furrowed as he crouches out of sight.

"What is it?" he asks, and Gérard's voice comes over the line.

"We've picked up a suspicious broadcast going to multiple defunct Talon bases," his second says, and Gabriel is suddenly alert and on edge. "We haven't decoded the message, but Athena's tracked the origin. We think it might be something to do with Jesse."

Gabriel growls, "Where?"

"France. Annecy. I've sent the coordinates to your comm."

Gabriel looks down and there they are, shining white, a new lead to wherever Jesse is. His heart thumps and he clenches his jaw, moving to the edge of the roof and pulling himself over. He drops to the ground with a thud.

"Don't do anything stupid, Gabriel," Gérard warns. "Wait for backup, _mon ami_ , alright?"

"I have to get to him as soon as I can. Send them after me," he answers bluntly, and Gérard lets out a quick protest of "Wait-" before Gabriel hangs up and cuts him off.

The Blackwatch commander stows his shotguns and scans his surroundings, spotting a small car a few metres away. A Fiat, it looks like, and at any other time he'd laugh at the old, stereotypical relic. Right now, though, he needs something stealthy. An old car won't have the same trackers and remote functions the modern ones do, and it's perfect; or as close as can be, considering he doesn't have access to a dropship if he wants to try and reach the base undetected.

Gabriel strides over, sending out a localised EMP to kill the alarm before he produces a thin strip of metal. He jams it between the window and door, jiggling it for a second before the lock clicks and he can pull the door open. It smells hot and musty inside, but Gabriel couldn't really give less of a shit; he doesn't bother strapping himself in before he slaps a hotwire pad under the dashboard and activates the tech. The car sputters to a start and Gabriel slams the accelerator down. The Fiat lurches forward. Gabriel speeds towards the motorway as he considers the route, linking Florence to Milan to the border in his mind. Annecy is several hours away, but he's planning on cutting down that time drastically.

"Hold on, Jesse," Gabriel breathes, hoping against hope the kid is still okay. "I'm coming."

In the end, it takes him five hours to get to Annecy, driving as fast as he can and ignoring the limits. The town is quiet when he arrives, in late evening, and Gabriel gets out of the car as he pulls out his comm again. He calls up the navigational system and feeds it the coordinates, and the unit buzzes slightly before a series of figures and instructions pop up. Gabriel heads east immediately, following the directions, and within a few minutes he's standing in front of an innocuous-looking office building.

It's wide and stout, whitewashed and ugly. Gabriel peers into the glass door to see abandoned darkness, and with one fluid movement he brings his leg crashing into the transparent panel. It smashes into tiny bits and he steps over the threshold, bringing out his shotguns and walking further into the building. The ground floor looks normal. A desk in the centre, presumably meant for a receptionist, lies abandoned in front of a slotted list of names. Gabriel frowns and steps closer. The labels beside each floor number are all identical: generic company names in simple font, black on white, all except the basement. _Griffe Education Services_. It's just _slightly_ off, something not quite right, the font a tiny bit different and the background almost imperceptibly altered, and Gabriel's eyes narrow as he stares at it. Even before the SEP, his instincts were razor-sharp. He's learned to trust his gut over the years, and right now it's signalling at the basement.

Gabriel strides over to the staircase left of the desk, and his boots ring loud in the silence. He's hoping against hope these coordinates have something to them, but if Talon really is here they're doing an incredible job at concealing themselves if he can't hear a single noise even in this deafening silence, with his SEP-enhanced senses. A voice in the back of his mind is saying that he's wrong, that they're not here and he's wasting time. Gabriel tries to shove it away.

He reaches the bottom and keeps going, walking down the corridor. There's faint light at the end of it, and it seems too long to fit properly inside the building. The basement must extend much further than the floor plan, spread out under Annecy.

How many _education_ companies would need that space underground?

Gabriel comes to the end and grips his shotguns, peering around the corner. A man and a woman sit at twin desks, the former typing and the latter perusing paperwork. He clears his throat, adrenaline rising in his blood, and the woman seems to hear.

"Sir," she says, without looking up, "We're unfortunately closed at this time. If you come back tomorrow morning, we'd be happy to help."

Gabriel glares at her. "I'll be coming in now, actually," he growls, and her face changes from a pleasant mask to shocked recognition at his voice before she shoots up from her chair, aims a pistol straight at Gabriel's head and fires.

He curses, lunges towards the second desk and blasts the man behind with a shotgun shell. He dies instantly and the woman lets out a cry of anger before she unloads another round at Gabriel, and he grunts as he drops to the floor, diving closer to her as she spins out a leg to catch his head. The kick connects and the world goes sideways, and Gabriel snarls as he pushes himself up and blasts her through the chest.

In the sudden quiet, all Gabriel can hear is his own heavy breathing. He mutters another curse, putting a hand to the side of his head. There's a small welt there, but nothing to slow him down too much. Thankfully, there's no concussion.

Gabriel crouches to look over the woman's body. There's a tiny T icon on the ID badge pinned to her shirt, and he recognises the symbol from Gérard's research. _Talon_.

He's in the right place. Now, all he needs to do is find Jesse.

"Fuck, I hope you're in here, kid," he mutters, pressing a knuckle to his forehead.

The woman's desk is bare, with just enough faked paperwork to look legitimate. Gabriel searches for about a minute before he finds a small indent under the surface, and he presses it in, brushing aside his suspicion. The wall behind him hisses backwards and slides, revealing a white-walled room with a couple of operatives with their back to him. Gabriel strides in and takes them down unaware, the blasts echoing loud in the silence, and storms down the corridor to the left.

Gabriel tears through the base like a whirlwind of ruthlessness, killing anyone and everyone he sees. He's steadily losing hope, though, as he calls for Jesse and searches every room he can find. Apart from the dead Talon operatives, each one is completely empty. He's swept through almost all of the basement when he starts searching the final corridor, and it's devoid of light, sound and human beings.

"Jesse?" Gabriel calls. "Jesse, are you here? God _damnit_ ," he curses, when there's no response.

He's about to storm out of the corridor when something at the end of it catches his eye, and he strides down towards the light that's been left on. All the other rooms in this passageway are dark, and the illumination sets off alarm bells in his mind.

"Jesse?" he shouts again, and rounds the corner. Gabriel stops dead in his tracks at the sight that greets him.

Jesse is barely recognisable, slumped and bound in a chair, soaked in blood and vomit and who the fuck knows what else. Gabriel slams open the door to the room adjoining Jesse's, sprinting through to reach him, heart pounding.

"Jesse! Can you hear me? McCree!" he repeats, gripping his shoulders. Jesse's head lolls slightly, and Gabriel realises with a jolt he's deeply unconscious. His best bet is to carry the kid out of here. He’s not going to be able to walk by himself.

Gabriel kneels, gripping the tight bindings around Jesse’s ankles. They’re cold and metallic, made of a material he’s not going to be able to break. The commander’s eyes flick around the room, searching for something to help, and he looks back at the adjacent room. He pushes himself up and strides over.

He didn’t notice it when he was racing through, but the room is lined with computer screens. All of them are showing data on Jesse, stats and vitals that would be needed to keep him alive during torture.

“Motherfuckers,” Gabriel whispers, as he sees one of the displays showing a list of text.

 _SUBJECT: JESSE MCCREE_  
AFFILIATION: ???  
INTERROGATION TIMER: 1017h 34m 28s  
STATUS: INCOMPLETE

A strange sense of pride swells in Gabriel, momentarily snatching him from the moment.

_Jesse didn’t break. He held on._

The emotion wars with the rise of guilt inside him at the huge timer. _Dios_ , he thinks, he left Jesse with these _bastards_ for over one thousand hours.

Gabriel shakes himself out of his thoughts then, shoving away the feeling blooming in him. The situation is time-critical. He needs to find some sort of key. He scans the room and spots a small sliver of metal, a couple of centimetres wide and a few more high. There's a small green LED, currently off, at the end of the rod, and it's lying alone in a tray labelled _Keys_.

A small voice in the back of his head says _it's too easy_ , but Gabriel lunges forward and grabs the key, banishing the words. All he needs to do is get Jesse free, and he can deal with anything else from there.

Gabriel goes back to the interrogation room, swallowing the bile that rises in his throat at the sight of the kid. He crouches down, turning the key over in his hands.

"The fuck does this work?" he mutters, and looks up at Jesse.

And then Gabriel sees what he missed before, in his haste and shock. Jesse is missing his left arm, the wound bloody, and ragged, and uncauterised.

“ _Madre de Dios_ ,” he breathes, and time seems to slow as he takes in the mess of flesh that's left of Jesse's arm. It's an imprecise and savage wound, and Gabriel's world tinges red as he imagines some murderous bastard sawing away to Jesse's screams.

Gabriel lunges forward with the key and slams it against the ankle restraints, and they loosen with hydraulic puffs. He rips them away, throwing them against the wall with a clatter, and stands with a snarl to release his remaining arm too. This one detaches more slowly, and when Gabriel pulls it he sees a tube trailing behind it, leaking clear liquid. He blanches and reaches for Jesse's upper arm, seeing the punctured skin and the blood. They were fucking _drugging him_ and Gabriel shouldn't be surprised but he is beyond white-hot rage, and he lets out a yell as he hurls the restraint away. He takes a breath, clenching his fists. He has to be gentle with Jesse. He has to calm down.

Jesse is terrifyingly light when Gabriel picks him up, the kind of featherlight weight that only occurs after extreme starvation, and his breathing is shallow. Gabriel fumbles at his hip for his comm, switching it back on. The screen flashes and he curses at the sight of all the unread messages, swiping on Ana's contact name. She picks up on the first ring.

"Gabriel, tell me you didn't go in alone."

"I need help, Ana. I found Jesse. He needs medical, _right now_."

He hears her sharp intake of breath. " _Allaena_. Hold on, Gabriel. Gérard sent us in the dropship. We're on our way. Angela is with me."

"Hurry," he says curtly, his jaw clenching. He doesn't trust himself to say any more and still keep calm.

It barely takes any effort at all to carry Jesse out of the compound, retracing his steps back to the bloodied reception of the basement, and then the floor above. When he steps back out through the door into the dark street of Annecy, there's a shout and a light on him and someone yells his name. Though his eyes are slitted against the brightness, he sees Ana flying forwards, already detaching a biotic field from her belt, Angela white-faced and sprinting behind her.

"Oh, _Gott_ ," the trainee medic whispers, as Ana grips the canister and twists it apart. Warm light streams from the can and envelops all four of them. Jesse's tense form relaxes slightly; it's only a small difference, but just enough to be noticeable.

"What did they _do_ to him?" Ana says darkly, and Gabriel just shakes his head as he starts moving towards the dropship a few metres away, where a couple of agents are running to prepare the ship for another takeoff.

Angela leads the way, tying her bright hair out of her face. "My Caduceus equipment is inside. It will help stabilise him."

Gabriel's footsteps thud heavy in his mind as he stares down at the broken twenty-year-old in his arms. Jesse’s usually-tan skin is pale and his face is utterly blank. Gabriel has never seen that lack of expression on his features, and something it about it terrifies him. He has no idea what Talon did to Jesse, no idea if he'll even come back to them. Gabriel clenches his jaw, arms tightening around his limp form.

As he walks up the dropship ramp, Ana is pulling out the medical bed while Angela drags her Caduceus machine over. Gabriel knows she's working on a portable prototype, but it's untested and unsafe right now, and so they're stuck with the clunky van-sized box.

"Lay him down," Ana says, face pale, although her tone is even.

Gabriel does as she says, and Angela's eyes are bright as she latches the Caduceus stream onto Jesse's body. The machine hums as it works, and the Swiss medic bites her lip.

"I don't know if there's much else I can do. We need to get back to Zurich," she says, her voice steady.

Gabriel leans away from them and yells, "Takeoff. Now!"

Two Blackwatch agents appear from outside immediately, followed by a third who strides past them and into the cockpit. They know their commander's tones and inflections, and this one promises hurt if its orders aren't followed immediately. Gabriel straps Jesse down as the ship door whirrs closed, and he buckles himself into the seat beside the bed.

Gabriel leans forward, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, _mijo_ ," he murmurs. "I failed you."

"Gabriel," comes a voice, and he looks up to see Ana smiling faintly at him despite her teary eyes. "We have him back. He's not done yet, he's strong. Don't give up on him."

The Blackwatch commander looks at Jesse again, taking in the ragged remainder of his arm. "Do you think he's going to remember what happened to him?"

Ana pauses for a few seconds. "I honestly don't know. I hope he doesn't."

Angela makes a small noise next to her, and the captain circles an arm around the younger medic, trying to comfort her. Gabriel leans back and rests his head on the wall, and they stay like that for the rest of the journey.


	6. Chapter 6

When he wakes, it is quiet and bright.

There is something soft under his cheek, and he blinks at the white light that spills through the crack in his eyelids. His body feels numb. He's lying down, and he shifts slightly on the firm yet comfortable material under him. Sound comes to his ears, a gentle, rhythmic beeping. He blinks again, the brightness fading slightly as his eyes begin to adjust, and he lets out a murmur as he sees someone standing near his bed.

A woman with blonde hair turns immediately, face plastered with shock, and her face sparks a name in his mind. Angela. He glances at the medical monitors behind her, and awareness comes rushing back. Jesse's in a hospital bed. He doesn't remember why.

"Angie?" Jesse whispers, voice broken.

Angela lets out a breathless gasp. "Jesse!" she greets him, smiling through her shock. "Thank God you're awake."

"Where am I?" he asks faintly. His limbs feel leaden, and he tries to resist the urge to fall back asleep.

"We're in Zurich," Angela says, and bites her lip. "Do you... What do you remember?"

Jesse stares at her. Images flash through his mind; departing on the mission with Gabe, taking down a bunch of grunts, and then... nothing. He frowns and pushes harder, but it's like there's a wall of fog blocking his memories. "I... I dunno. Nothing since the mission."

Angela nods, face filled with badly-concealed worry. "Your brain has likely blocked out your experience due to stress," she says, and Jesse recognises that tone she uses when she's trying to hold it together in front of a patient.

"What experience?" he asks, voice low and ragged. He doesn't know why it sounds so damaged.

The medic takes a breath and looks him in the eye. "You were kidnapped by Talon, Jesse. We don't... we don't know what they did to you."

Jesse stares at her, stunned. "How long?"

Angela looks down.

"How long?" he repeats, panic rising in his chest as he tenses.

"Six weeks," she whispers.

The words hit like a cannonball and Jesse gasps, and Angela's eyes fill with tears. She's never been good at holding it together when it's him in the hospital bed, or Gabe, or Jack or Ana, anyone she cares about.

"Jesse-" Angela begins, but the cowboy shakes his head.

"Sorry, Angie, I think I need to... take a moment," Jesse mutters, head spinning.

The doctor nods, lips pressed together, and flees the room. Jesse is left alone, and he curls up tight on the bed. Breathe. _Just breathe_. There's a fucking six-week gap in his memory and he can't _remember_ , and his breath comes short as he tries to hold it together. He doesn't know what the hell happened. Jesse leans back, running his hands through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

Except the gesture he's making doesn't happen, and he frowns as only one of his hands obeys. Jesse glances down at his other arm and there's only the bed where it should be, and there's a moment of stillness before the world slides on its axis and he sees the bandaged fucking _stump_ where his shooting hand used to be, and dizziness makes his ears ring and his head spin nauseous. Jesse lets out a yell and Angela rushes back in.

"Jesse?" She notices him staring at the remnants of his arm, and she lets out a small noise before she rushes over, enveloping him in as strong a hug as he can withstand. Her hair soaks up his tears as she holds him, and Jesse lets out a whimper. "I'm so sorry, Jesse. I'm sorry," Angela whispers, voice shaky.

Jesse says nothing; his ability to vocalise has deserted him completely, and his head spins as dizziness overtakes him and blackness sweeps in.


	7. Chapter 7

The first time Gabriel sees Jesse awake is simultaneously joyful and terrifying.

It's the third time overall he's woken since they got him back, and Angela texts him immediately to let him know Jesse is stable enough to be seen. Gabriel wastes no time in dropping _everything_ and practically sprinting to the medical bay.

Angela is waiting outside for him, and when Gabriel approaches she gives him a nod. "He's inside there," she says, biting her lip. "Be... be careful, Gabriel. He's a little different at the moment."

Gabriel's heart hammers as he says, "Thanks for everything, Angela."

The medic smiles sadly. "Good luck."

Gabriel makes his way into Jesse's room without another word. The first thing that greets him is a mercifully steady beeping, and the second thing that registers is how pale Jesse is. He looks like a ghost, lying in white with his tanned skin pale from the time imprisoned inside, and he raises his head slightly as Gabriel enters.

"Hey, _mijo_ ," Gabriel whispers.

Jesse's eyes glisten in the bright light. "Gabe?" His voice is weak and quiet, and it makes Gabriel want to throw something across the room. He'll destroy the fucker that did this if it's the last thing he does, but he pushes his anger down as he approaches Jesse's bed.

"How are you doing?" Gabriel asks, and Jesse looks down.

"Fine, I guess. Except for... my arm," he says, and his voice is a whisper for the last two words. "I can't shoot anymore."

Gabriel puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Jesse. We'll fix it. We'll get through it."

Jesse closes his eyes. "I'm useless to you," he mumbles.

"No. You will _never_ be useless to me, Jesse," Gabriel barks, unable to help the harsh tone that comes out, and the kid visibly _flinches_ from the sound. Gabriel's heart twists. "I'm sorry, _mijo_. I'm not angry at you," he says, and Jesse eyes him like a caged animal, like he did all those years ago, waiting for Gabriel to give him a Deadlock-style beating that never came.

_What in the fuck did they do to you?_

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Jesse looks down. "I'm sorry."

Gabe stares. "What for?"

"I got caught. My fault," he mutters.

Gabe takes a breath. "It's not your fault. I promise," he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. Jesse stares up, eyes wide, mistrust shining in them.

Angela comes in then, putting a hand on Gabriel's shoulder before he's realised she's in the room. "He needs to rest now," she says quietly. "I'm sorry, Gabriel."

Gabriel nods, not taking his eyes off Jesse. "Yeah. Okay."

The kid stares back at him, looking frail and washed-out in the bed, as Gabriel stands and Angela methodically switches whatever's in the IV. His eyes start to close, made drowsy by the drugs, and lose their focus as he stares in Gabriel's direction.

"Why didn't you... come..." he slurs, the words trailing off, and it's like someone has shoved Gabriel's heart in a vice and squeezed.

Gabriel takes in a breath that comes with difficulty, and Angela bites her lip, eyes full as she takes a step closer. She puts a hand on the commander's shoulder.

"This is not your fault, Gabriel," she says firmly, though her voice shakes a little.

"That's not what Jesse thinks," he mutters, and Angela takes a deep breath before she pulls herself closer to him in a hug. Her arms barely stretch around Gabriel's thick torso, but he hugs her back all the same.

"We'll get through this. We can get him back."

Gabriel closes his eyes. There isn't much that throws him anymore, with his years of warfare and experience, but he has a huge weak spot for Jesse. He knows Angela does too. "God, I hope so," he says.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! here's a long chapter to make up for the shorter last update. enjoy!

It takes five days for Jesse to be well enough that Angela lets him out of the medical centre, and the first thing that Gabriel does is walk him to his room.

Jesse's still pale, and although he's regained a little of the weight he lost his face is thin. Gabriel can't imagine what he went through in there; he trained Jesse to be able to get through regular interrogation techniques, and so this must have been inhumane to... _break_ him like this.

The hallway is filled, as usual, with operatives going about their business: Overwatch, Blackwatch and other administrative staff. Most of the second group recognise Jesse, and each one has the same expression when they see him and Gabriel. No matter how much they try to hide it, the pity is clear. Jesse was the only one from that ill-fated mission to return alive, and it's clear some of them consider his to be the worst fate.

"Hey," Gabriel says, when Sangre, one of Jesse's training partners, gives him a forced smile and eyes full of concern as she walks by. He seems to cave in on himself at her expression, and Gabriel nudges him slightly. "They're just worried about you. And relieved to have you back."

Jesse's gaze strays downwards. "I don't want them to treat me like I'm broken. I ain't. Just a bit..." He trails off, searching for the right word.

"I know," Gabriel tells him softly. "I know, Jesse."

Jesse says nothing, silence radiating from him as he looks down. Gabriel sees his eyes flick to his cleanly-bandaged stump of an arm.

"You're more than that, kid."

Jesse nods roughly. "I know. I know that."

Gabriel come to a stop outside Jesse's door, unease filling him at the stilted conversation. He tells himself it's just the kid feeling - obviously, understandably - traumatised after his abduction. Jesse eyes the door to his room, an odd expression in his eyes; like he doesn't fully recognise it.

"Jesse?" Gabriel tries.

The twenty-year-old looks at him, brow furrowed. "Yeah. I'm... I don't think I want to be alone," he says quietly, shame leaking through his words.

"That's fine," Gabriel tells him. "What do you want to do instead?"

Jesse opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly a strange expression comes across his features and he shakes his head. "I... I don't know."

Gabriel tries so hard not to read too much into it. He really does. But from the second he met Jesse, the kid has been the most opinionated person he knows save for Ana. He always has an comment to make, always has a joke or a barb at the ready to irritate Gabriel with, always has an opinion on what he wants. Except now. And, somewhere deep inside, it terrifies Gabriel.

His comm buzzes, and Gabriel pulls it out. Jesse eyes the device with mistrust.

_ANA AMARI: How is he?_

Gabriel types in a message, fingers sure despite his worried mind.

 _GABRIEL REYES: Out of clinic. Where are you?_  
ANA AMARI: Rec room near your office.  
GABRIEL REYES: Coming now. Need to talk.  
ANA AMARI: thumbsup.gif

Gabriel clips the black unit back onto his belt, and looks at Jesse. "You happy to go to the rec room? We can spend a bit of time there while you think of something."

Jesse nods. "Yeah. Okay."

He starts walking, thankfully remembering where to go, and Gabriel keeps close, watching him. Even Jesse's _walk_ has changed. It's not the sure swagger it normally is, but more insecure. Less steady. The change sends alarm bells ringing in Gabriel's head. As he keeps his eyes on Jesse, the more he convinces himself there's indeed something to be worried about. Gabriel has been keeping himself going by operating on the thought that they can get past whatever Jesse struggles with; that he'll eventually be able to return to how he was before.

Now, for the first time, Gabriel is having to entertain the prospect that that might not be the case.

He's still lost in the same train of thought when Jesse stops walking and he nearly crashes into him. They're outside the rec room, and Ana stands from where she's curled on an armchair to greet them.

"Jesse," she says, and strides towards him, smiling, before she hugs him. "I'm glad you're up and moving."

Jesse stiffens visibly, saying nothing, and Gabriel sees Ana's expression shift from relief to concern. Her expression smooths over, hiding the worry as she pulls back and Fareeha appears from behind her mother, grinning at Jesse.

"Jesse! Thank God you're back," the younger Amari exclaims, and copies her mother's embrace. Gabriel frowns as he watches Jesse. Fareeha is like a sister to him, that's evident from the way they act around each other, but right now he's stiff and ready to fight. Fareeha draws back when Jesse says nothing, confusion on her face. Jesse takes a breath and flexes his fingers, and her gaze catches the bandage on his lost arm. She takes a breath inwards, looking horrified, and Jesse shrinks slightly under her pity.

Ana takes a step towards Gabriel and his eyes flick to her as he jerks his head outside. She nods, and follows.

They're out of earshot by the time Gabriel turns to Ana. "Something is wrong," he whispers immediately. "Something is _not right_ , Ana."

"Gabriel, he's just been tortured. For _weeks_. This kind of reaction is normal-"

"No," Gabriel says, shaking his head. "I know what trauma looks like. That's not everything. He doesn't know himself anymore, his wants, his opinions, he walks differently, his confidence is gone, he's so fucking _quiet_ , Ana, and it's terrifying me!"

Ana takes a breath. "I... we need to give him time to readjust, Gabriel."

"Something is wrong," he insists, but the sniper shakes her head.

"We need to wait. Jesse will get better with time, Gabriel. You can't rush that."

No, Gabriel nearly yells, but takes a breath, attempting to restrain himself. "You're sure?" he asks, doubt running through his tone like quicksilver.

Ana nods, expression regretful. "I'm sure. Wait and see; he might fully recover sooner than we think."

Gabriel nods. Nods again, showing his nerves. "Fine. We wait."

Ana grips his shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly. "He'll come back to us with time. I've seen it with many trauma victims."

Gabriel drags a hand down his face. "I know. You're right. I just... have this bad feeling. That it's something worse."

"It's natural. It's worry, Gabriel," Ana says, looking slightly amused despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Come on."

Gabriel follows Ana back into the rec room to find Jesse huddled into one corner of the sofa, Fareeha attempting to talk to him. Jesse is staring at his knees, and he looks up when he hears the others come back in.

Fareeha stops speaking, leaning back. "Done with your secret chat?" she asks, grinning, glancing sideways at Jesse. Gabriel knows exactly what she's waiting for; in a normal situation, she and Jesse would be completely in sync, matching their snarks and jokes. But Jesse stays silent, watching Gabriel with dark eyes. Fareeha's face falls.

Ana takes a breath. "Yes, we're done."

"Jesse, you okay, kid?" Gabriel asks.

Jesse looks down, hand flexing. "Yeah. No, I... I don't know. Can we go somewhere... else."

Gabriel frowns. "Where do you want to go?"

"Can we go to your office?" Jesse asks quietly, blinking

Gabriel nods, ignoring the strangeness of the request. Jesse spent a lot of time in Talon's hands; he probably wants to go somewhere familiar to him. "Course we can, kid."

Ana gives Gabriel a meaningful stare as he turns to leave, and the commander shoots her one back. _I'll take care of him_. Opposite her mother, Fareeha is staring after Jesse, consternation evident on her face at his edginess around her, his reluctance to even _be_ around her.

The rec room is relatively near to Gabriel's office, and so it only takes a short while for them to reach their destination. It's a good thing the journey is small, as well, because by the time they get there Jesse's shoulders are starting to shake.

"Hold on, Jesse. We're nearly there," Gabriel says, as he unlocks the door, pressing his keycard to the lock. The door swishes open and he pushes Jesse in gently, and the kid goes straight to the corner and huddles down, breathing quickly. Gabriel curses under his breath and locks the door behind them, crouching down beside Jesse.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "You're safe now."

"Not... safe," Jesse chokes out, and Gabriel takes a breath as he sees the kid's wet cheeks. Gabriel knows from experience that Jesse reacts badly to physical contact during panic attacks, but goddammit if he doesn't want to hug him until it's better. Instead, he tries to reassure Jesse.

"I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" Gabriel says, keeping his tone gentle.

Jesse screws his eyes shut, burying his face in his knees. His breaths are shallow. "Not... not me, not _safe_ ," he whispers, words almost incomprehensible. "In my _head_."

Gabriel frowns, but before he can reply he registers his name being called outside, and narrows his eyes at the door. He takes a breath, turning back to Jesse, who's wrapped himself up as small as possible, clutching his knees. This had better be quick; Jesse's attacks have never been this... _isolating_ , and Gabriel knows he needs to take care of him as much as he can.

"I'll be back in a second, alright, Jesse? Hang on for just one minute," Gabriel tells him, and Jesse gives him a shaky nod, head still pressed into his knees. The commander gets up, restraining his need to shake Jesse and get him to spill what's wrong so he can _help_. Gabriel knows that's in no way the right approach for a panic attack, knows Jesse won't deal well with that in this state, but it's a lifelong instinct and it's still hard to push down.

When he opens the door, pulling it near-closed behind him to give Jesse some privacy, Jack is standing right there, hair tousled and eyes blue. Gabriel sighs at the sight. It's not that they've been... arguing lately, but they've been growing more apart daily. Jesse being taken put a lot of strain on their relationship. The silence between them is terse before Gabriel eventually breaks it.

"What do you want, Jack?" he asks.

"I wanted to check up on Jesse," Jack explains. "How is he? Is he in there?"

Gabriel sighs again. "He's there. He... I don't know how long it'll take him to recover. He's disoriented and he's different. Ana assures me it's normal, but..."

Jack nods. "Can I talk to him? Might help to see another familiar face."

"Look, Jack, I appreciate you trying to help but he's uncomfortable around a lot of people right now. It's not personal, I promise," Gabriel says heavily. "He doesn't even want to spend time with Fareeha, for fuck's sake. She's his sister in all but blood."

Jack frowns. "I... fine. Fine. If you're sure. Text me as soon as you need me, okay?" he asks, brow creasing further, and Gabriel nods.

"I will, Jack."

Jack nods and turns, and Gabriel closes the door as he turns back around to face Jesse. "How are you doing, k-"

Gabriel freezes, blood going cold as he sees Jesse in front of him. He's in a classic shooter's stance, gripping Gabriel's hidden handgun - the only firearm in his office - in his remaining hand. His face is utterly blank.

"Jesse?" Gabriel asks, voice low. There's no reaction, and the commander curses inwardly. Jesse jerks the gun once, next to him, and Gabriel puts his hands up and moves behind the desk as Jesse circles the room to remain opposite him.

Right now, Gabriel can see two exit routes that might leave Jesse unharmed, but no definite, safe paths. Jesse is now standing between him and the door, gun still trained on him, and it makes escape harder. Gabriel has no idea what Jesse is doing, and he can't harm him until he knows what's happening.

"Jesse," Gabriel repeats, staring at him. His face remains blank. "Jesse, talk to me. What's happening?"

There is no response. Jesse doesn't even blink.

"It's me," Gabriel pleads. "Jesse, it's Gabriel. It's me. Just put the gun down, and-"

"Target," says Jesse dully, and blinks once. His tone is blank, monotone, with no trace of his strong accent.

 _Target?_ Gabriel stares at Jesse as he stands there, swaying slightly, still aiming but not shooting. His hand shakes slightly, and he still doesn't shoot.

Faint noise reaches Gabriel's ears from outside his door, and he tenses, recognising Jack's voice. That blonde asshole's stubborn attitude has annoyed him for years, but in this case... if someone comes through the door, it might give Gabriel an opportunity. He's fairly certain Jesse won't be able to hear Jack and... what sounds like Angela outside the door, considering their voices are already faint to Gabriel's SEP-enhanced hearing.

"He's in here. With Gabriel," Jack says faintly.

Angela's voice is serious. "Thanks, Jack. I analysed Jesse's blood work, and... I have some concerns."

"We'll sort them," Jack assures her, and Gabriel prepares himself to fight. It's going to be difficult to pull his punches just enough to keep from seriously hurting Jesse but still impact him, and-

"Gabe? I've got Angela with me. Can we come in?" Jack calls loudly, and this time Jesse hears. His eye twitches at the sound, and Gabriel can tell he's readying himself, analysing the situation. His grip on the gun tightens.

"Little busy, Jack," Gabriel calls, eyes fixed on Jesse. His expression doesn't alter at all. "Do you want to come back in... I don't know, four hours?"

When they were in the heart of the Crisis, there was a hostage incident with one of the high-ranking UN officials. It was averted (eventually), although that was mainly chance, and Gabriel and Jack were powerless in the heat of the situation. It made both of them rethink how they'd handle one of those situations, and Gabriel came up with a series of codes they could use before teaching it to the entire strike team.

_Little busy: something's wrong._

_Four hours: hostage situation._

Gabriel prays Jack remembers those codes, the phrases they came up with at midnight in that tiny safe house near Cairo, and he can almost hear the frown in Jack's voice as he asks, "Where do you want to meet?" _What's the situation?_

"I was thinking the mess. I'll have about an hour of free time then," Gabriel answers, trying to sound casual. _Guns. One hostile._

"Sure thing, Gabe," Jack says, tone light, and for one heart-stopping moment Gabriel thinks he's forgotten the codes and he genuinely believes they're having this conversation.

The door swishes open and the world ticks into slow motion for Gabriel. Jack bursts through, yelling, and crashes straight into Jesse, tackling him. Jesse lets out a snarl as he's collided with, and raises the gun to take aim as he falls to the floor.

He shoots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was planning on extending jesse's time in overwatch further, but it felt right to do it now as i was writing it. this is not the end, however - we still got a way to go.
> 
> i always love hearing what you guys think about my writing, so any comments are hugely appreciated! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahh this update schedule is awful but im not dead i promise

" _Gabriel_!" someone shrieks, a noise filled with agony and fury, and Jesse's cheek smashes into the ground as the fog clears from his mind and suddenly he's awake again.

Pain spurts through his head and he feels the crushing weight on his chest leap off, and there's a crash. Jesse pushes himself upright, mind spinning, head pounding, and stares. He's in a dark office, the walls closing in on him, and he can see streaks of gold flashing across his vision. Jesse takes in a struggling breath, _breathe, just breathe_ , and his body shakes as the scene in front of him clears. Jack is crouched over a convulsing body on the floor, choking sounds filling the room, and he can hear Angela's sobs as light streams out from her immaculate staff towards it. Jesse's eyes widen, and he takes in his surroundings. Black, red; he's in Gabriel's office. But where's...

Jesse stares, and recognition blooms. He knows that body, that clothing. He can only see half of it, the other section obscured by the overturned desk in the middle of the room. It hits him with terrible certainty and Jesse lets out a choked noise as he realises it's _Gabriel_ , lying on the ground, struggling to breathe.

Jack stands up and turns so slowly, seeming to come back to reality at Jesse's sound, and his face twists at the sight of him. " _Traitor_ ," he hisses, and Jesse scrambles away as Jack strides towards him.

"No, no," he whimpers, and his back hits the wall and panic floods through him.

_Breathe - no, I can't -_

Jack grabs him with both hands and Jesse's throat closes up as his heart thumps through his bones. "You traitorous _bastard_ ," he yells. Jesse cringes away from him but Jack holds him firm, shaking him, eyes blazing with fury. "I will _kill you_ -"

"No no no please -" Jesse's sobbing is incoherent, and he can barely breathe for the sheer terror coursing through his body.

" _Talk_!" Jack roars and his vision starts blurring, spotting and fading at the edges -  
  
"Jack, _stop_!" comes a voice, and Jesse stops before he hears Jack's response as he loses his grip on consciousness and succumbs to the panic.

\- - - - -

When he wakes, the first thing Jesse feels are the restraints. Bands of tight material hold his arms and legs down, and he tries to jerk his arm free. It doesn't move.

"No," he whispers, breathlessly. He's back, he's back in that nameless place that hovers on the edge of his memory. With the cold, and the light, and the man in the white coat. Pressure builds in Jesse's chest and his eyes dart around, taking in the fluorescent strips above him and the bed he's strapped to and the white walls, and he lets out a hoarse scream.

There's a bang and Jesse flinches, sound cut short as he tenses, muscles trembling.

"Jack, don't," says a low, female voice, and the Strike-Commander appears in Jesse’s vision, looming over him.

Jesse tenses in the bed, eyes wide, breathing shallow, and Jack’s expression darkens. “Don’t play games with me, McCree. Start talking.”

“About _what_?” Jesse whispers. “I don’t... I don’t understand -"

“You shot him, you _bastard_!” Jack yells suddenly, starting towards him, and cold punches through Jesse.

He struggles to comprehend Jack's words as he sees Angela coming forward to put a hand on Jack's shoulder. Her brow is furrowed as she avoids Jesse's gaze. "Let me handle this, Jack. There's something else going on here," she says quietly.

Jack doesn't try to conceal the mistrust and fury in his gaze as he mutters, still staring at Jesse, "I'll be right outside. Call me if he tries _anything_."

Angela nods and the Strike-Commander storms out of the room, boots sounding heavily throughout the room. The pressure in Jesse's chest diffuses, just slightly, and breathing comes a little easier as he looks up at Angela. Her shoulders are high as she tentatively perches on the edge of Jesse's bed. He recognises the sign of her nervousness immediately, although he doesn't say anything. She sits in silence for a few moments.

"Jesse," she says eventually. "Do... what can you tell me about where you were after you were taken?"

Jesse blinks twice, sorting through the events in his mind. "I don't... remember a lot. I remember you, and a bit of the mission, but..." He trails off as he racks his brain, and it's like fog sweeps over his mind. The more he tries to reach for the memories, the farther they get from him. "There was a man in a white coat. And the room looked like... just like this."

Angela bites her lip. "Do you know what happened to you there?"

Jesse shakes his head mutely.

The doctor twists her fingers together, and Jesse sees the lines under her eyes. "I've been analysing the blood I took from you when we recovered you," she says quietly. "I think you might have been... altered slightly." It's the first time he's ever heard her stumble over her words. "There is limited experimental research at the moment in a field called neuromodification. There haven't been any officially recorded cases, but... the theoretical symptoms are troubling."

"What do you mean?" Jesse asks, tense.

Angela takes a breath. "Jesse, I think you might have been subjected to neural reconditioning. To... carry out a singular goal. As a sleeper agent," she elaborates, tone thick.

A slow feeling of dread creeps over him, and Jesse tries not to panic under his restraints. "I... I don't understand. What _goal_?"

"I believe..." Angela begins, closing her eyes, "to kill Commander Reyes."

Something indistinct flits across Jesse's mind at the name, and he tries to calm his rising heartbeat. "Angie," he says, trying to keep his voice steady, "What did I do?"

Angela bites her lip, and Jesse sees blood. "You shot him," she admits, voice faint. "You... missed."

Jesse's eyes are blown wide with shock, and his breaths come quicker. "Is he... where is he?" he asks, stumbling over the words.

"In the medbay. You missed his head, but... you shot him in the throat. I was there immediately, but I don't yet know the extent of the damage. My portable Caduceus was only able to heal the surface of the wound."

Jesse blinks back the blurriness in his eyes. "Can I see him?" he asks hoarsely.

Angela shakes her head, pain etched in her expression. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Jesse."

And, even though he knows logically that it's the right thing to do, her words are like gunshots to Jesse's chest. "Angela," he whispers. "I gotta know he's okay. I need to see him."

"I'm sorry," is all she says, before the doctor gets up from his bed.

" _Angie_ ," Jesse repeats, fists clenched. "Let me out-"

Angela's face is hard when she turns back to him. "I can't, Jesse. I have no idea what you'll do."

Jesse lets out a yell. "Let me the _fuck_ out of here!" he shouts, and although he doesn't know what's causing this _painful_ need to get to Gabriel, it doesn't stop the anger coursing through him. "I swear to Christ, if you keep me here for one more fuckin'-"

"Jesse, calm down," Angela says, eyes dark.

Jesse screams, writhing to try and get free of the restraints and the fire ants racing under his skin, and he's so caught up in the anger and the agony at the thought of being separated from Gabriel that he doesn't register Angela tapping the monitor until it's done. His vision fades as the screaming stops, and he vaguely registers Jack hurrying into the room as Angela says something about sedation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for clarification, in this fic angela hasn't fully developed her caduceus tech yet; she has a small prototype staff that can heal very light wounds, but she still needs the big machine to have full capability like what she has in the present.


End file.
